


Recompense

by Taliya



Series: Give and Take [2]
Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Bromance, Friendship, Gen, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-16
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-14 17:54:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11213217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taliya/pseuds/Taliya
Summary: Kudou Shinichi’s return to the public eye coincided with the exposing of one of the largest underground criminal organizations in Japan.  He had made sure to tie up all loose ends before he had returned.  There was, however, one thing he had to do after he returned—he had a promise to keep, after all.  Rated for language.  Sequel to Search and Recovery.





	Recompense

**Author's Note:**

> Detective Conan and Magic Kaito characters, settings, and ideas do not belong to me but to Aoyama Gōshō.
> 
> Warnings: Language, spoilers for the Kirin’s Horn heist (Files 712-15/Episodes 585-87), and references to Kudou Shinichi’s Childhood Adventure (Files 570-72/Episodes 472-73), Movie 8: The Magician of the Silver Sky, and Movie 14: The Lost Ship in the Sky

Automobile headlights zipped down the highways, their long sinuous lines spider webbing out like blood vessels, the people within the vehicles the life-giving oxygen that made Tokyo a nearly living, breathing entity all its own.  The sirens quietly wailed nearby, the sound muffled by layers of glass, steel, and concrete.  He gazed out the floor-to-ceiling window, observing the way life moved through the city, seemingly seamless in its smooth continuity.  He quietly soaked in this fleeting moment of peace, having temporarily lost his pursuers on the Task Force.  They would arrive soon enough—of that he was certain—but the view from the fifty-second floor Rooftop Bar of the Toranomon Hills Mori Tower was truly captivating.  The only better view of Tokyo to be had was whenever he was suspended midair on his glider.

He reveled in the breather that had been bestowed upon him, wondering how long it would take for Nakamori and his men to realize that he had actually gone _up_ instead of _down_ , as he had made it seem that way with the aid of a dummy and some clever wiring.  The heist tonight had not been to seek Pandora—he had found _that_ gem just shy of three months ago, though he had not yet found a way to destroy it.  No, tonight was solely about busting another counterfeit ring.  This time, the objects in question were replicas of the Verrazano Emerald, a large diamond-encrusted brooch with a giant viridian centerpiece that had been stolen over three decades ago from the head of a Columbian drug cartel.  Tonight was similar in concept to the heist he had held regarding the forged personal effects of Sakamoto Ryouma five years ago.  He had, over the course of his rather illustrious career as Kaitou KID, exposed a good number of counterfeit rings, and he was honestly quite proud of that fact.

So here he stood, empty-handed and with nothing to show for his efforts as a part of Division Two marched the group of five men out to the patrol vehicles almost two hundred fifty meters below.  But he was happy, willing and able as he was to continue the work that Phantom Lady had never been able to finish before she had retired.  He considered his next—and last—few heists a “checking off the to-do list,” so to speak, so that when he was finally done, both KID and Lady’s reasons for existing would be no more.  He would be able to hang up the hat, cape, and monocle, and be free to pursue the interests that he had put on hold ever since he had taken up the mantle of Kaitou KID.

The realization that he was nearly done with this chapter of his life was a bittersweet one; while it had certainly brought its highs—anticipation and jubilation and relief—there had been lows as well—fear and rage and pain.  He wondered, briefly, if he would have been just as content as he was now had he never discovered his parents’ secrets.   _I’d probably be as happy-go-lucky as I was in high school, but a lot less circumspect about people in general._

His contemplation was cut short by the quiet sigh of the Rooftop Bar’s glass doors sliding open behind him—the hotel had essentially been under lockdown the moment he had announced the heist location—and the single set of footsteps proved that his latest companion was not a part of Division Two.  And with the Syndicate having been brought down by Edogawa Conan—who was the shrunken alias of Kudou Shinichi—nearly four years ago, he felt fairly confident that tonight would not be his last.  He still tensed, however, ready to dodge with the aid of a small mirror he palmed to discretely view the newcomer.

“You promised me a name and a face, didn’t you?”

“Two years ago, and yes, I did.”  He smirked as he replied, “But was it not also you who set the condition of catching me first?”  He swiveled easily on his heel, taking in the sight of a grinning twenty-one-year-old Kudou Shinichi, and his own grin inadvertently softened into something more sincere.  “Welcome home, Meitantei.”

\---

He had known the moment the heist notice had been posted on the front page of the entertainment section of Nichiuri’s newspaper that there would be no actual theft involved.  Rather, he had concluded that KID would likely capitalize on his own notoriety to garner a harder look at persons of a more unsavory nature, and he was not proven wrong.  The heist tonight had been a “returning” of the long-lost Verrazano Emerald, and the wording of the thief’s missive had instantly brought to mind the heist regarding Sakamoto Ryouma.  The note had been written in English:

 _The lost Verrazano Emerald_  
_Will make its reappearance_  
_Andaz-stars and Over the heads_  
_Of nighttime guests of the Gate._

_-Kaitou KID_

The riddle was—brilliant, to say the least.  KID had cleverly utilized the English language to make use of the pronunciation of the hotel’s name as a description of the location without explicitly stating it.  He had worked it out after a decent amount of research, wracking his brain for the reason why “under stars” had been written as “Andaz-stars”, though the Gate reference had given him the final clue he had needed to piece the location together.  The Toranomon Hills complex’s main and tallest tower was called the Mori Tower, and the complex’s “M” logo appeared quite similar to the kanji for gate.  And occupying the topmost floors of the building was the Andaz Tokyo Toranomon Hills Hotel, with its well-known and aptly named Rooftop Bar at its crest.

KID had led the Task Force on a merry chase through the hotel, much to the management and staff’s mingled delight and horror.  He had followed behind the mass of armored policemen, choosing instead to be more passive observer than active participant.  Moreover, he had something else in mind regarding the magician.  KID had led them to room 4827, picking the electronic lock—how the thief had done that so quickly and easily, he could not even _begin_ the fathom—and had “accidentally” flipped over a suitcase that had been set upon a luggage rack.  A miniature landslide of brooches identical to the photographs of the actual had bounced and tumbled across the carpeted floor, bringing the officers to a stunned halt.  KID had merely bowed with a smirk, popped open the window, and hopped out, appearing to have dropped down and out of sight.

 _But if I know KID, he’ll want to linger.  He’ll want to watch and make sure that the people he’s led us to are fully in police custody before he leaves._  And if he was still here, then what better place to observe than at the highest vantage point the hotel could offer?   _And besides—KID’s always been fond of heights._ So, up to the Rooftop Bar he went.

He was rather gratified to find the thief standing on the far side the bar as he stepped off the elevator.  The automatic sliding door separating the bar from the elevator lobby slid aside for him with a pneumatic _hiss_ , and he opened up their usual banter with a lazy demand that he fully expected the phantom thief to refuse.  He was rebuffed, as anticipated, but pleasantly surprised by the warm reception.

“I’m home,” he replied, genuinely touched.  He allowed the camaraderie between them to linger for a moment before he decided to get down to business.  “Well,” he huffed in amusement, shaking his head ruefully, “I suppose I shouldn't let my promise hang any longer.”  His smile morphed into a sharp-edged grin.  “Shall we…?”

_… begin?_

\---

He cocked his head slightly, shooting him an intensely eager stare from beneath the brim of his top hat.  “If you insist…”

“Oh, but I do,” Kudou insisted with predatory intensity as he popped an inflatable soccer ball from a now too-small belt that he had wrapped around his wrist and began to mindlessly dribble the black and white sphere.  “You see, unlike you—at least, I think—I have nothing to lose and everything to gain by catching you.”

The intensity of an anticipation he had not felt in a long time thrummed vibrantly in his veins.  The critic who had challenged him the most in all of his years as Kaitou KID was here in the flesh, and no longer in his diminutive form.  It meant that they were now on a completely even playing field, and that he no longer had to pull his punches for fear of injuring his rival.  He still winced whenever he thought about the Kirin’s Horn heist where he had used a stun gun on the sleuth, and how at the time his anxiety had increased the longer the detective had remained out cold, despite the fact that he had tinkered with the stun gun in order to drop the amperage to “safer” levels.

By the glint in Kudou’s eye, he could clearly tell that the detective would not be holding back either.  So he playfully grinned as he calmed himself down, a smoke bomb dropping into his palm in preparation as he answered tauntingly, “Provided you can.”

The bomb dropped at his feet, dousing the bar in a thick haze, and he sprinted outside to the open-air terrace as he heard Kudou mutter a heartfelt, _“Shit!”_  He pulled out his grappling gun and shot it upwards.  The hook latched onto the bottom of the lower of the two overhanging ceilings, and he released and shot it once more at the edge, using his momentum to swing himself around and up, repeating the maneuver for the second overhang.  He gave himself enough slack on the line to land on the smooth, flat surface of the tower’s helicopter pad and smirked, wondering exactly _how_ Kudou planned on chasing him up here without having to sprint up seven flights of stairs.  Still, he decided to be the gentleman that he was and waited patiently for the detective’s arrival.

Several minutes’ worth of taking in the scenery later, and footsteps accompanied by harsh breathing announced the arrival of his pursuant.  “Sure took your time there, Meitantei,” he mocked lightly as he stared at the detective.

Kudou huffed.  “You try running up seven flights of stairs,” he dared as he puffed heavily.  The detective steadied his breathing as he straightened with a predatory smirk, and there was a definite sense of déjà vu as they faced off on the helipad.

He was tempted to recreate their previous encounter, though he noted that this time Kudou had no backpack on—meaning there was no paraglider to save him should he be cornered and knocked off the landing pad.  Therefore, he decided to escape instead of fight.  He twisted and ran for the northern corner of the pad, as the southwest and southeast sides were blocked by the building architecture itself, and the northwest had nothing but a yawning space seven stories deep to catch Kudou should he try to jump after him.  While the northeast was also an exit direction, the wind conditions would not be as favorable if he chose to take off facing that way, though the slanting roof provided a safety net of sorts that extended past the northern corner of the helipad.  So he sprinted for the north, hand reaching for the trigger to deploy the glider as he neared the rails.

The second ball, he had known, was coming.  But instead of fully dodging the projectile, he miscalculated and ended up only partially dodging it instead.  The soccer ball barely clipped him on the left shoulder, but the force from Kudou’s kick was more than enough to send him spinning.  He was thrown off balance as a result, and instead of hopping gracefully over the railing as he had intended, he tripped, stumbled, and flipped gracelessly over it.

\---

_“KID!”_

He could have sworn his heart had momentarily stopped the moment he realized that the thief was not going to be able to recover fast enough from the ball. He had initially been thrilled upon seeing how he had managed to nick KID, but that had instantly given way to horror. Before he even realized what he was doing he was sprinting forwards, desperate to catch the magician before he fell to his death. The elasticity suspenders were yanked out of a pocket and one end was snapped around the helicopter pad’s perimeter railing while the other went around his waist; he set the desired extension distance and leapt after KID, struggling to maintain his footing. Between the slick, angled glass of the roof and the horizontal steel struts, it was a rather difficult descent.

Still, he somehow managed to run even with the discombobulated phantom thief before diving at him, wrapping his arms around the magician’s torso and clutching to that other body as tightly as he could. The belt, nearing its inputted distance, slowed the both of them to a halt on the tilted surface. He watched as KID blinked, and he abruptly realized that they were practically pressed flush together, nose-to-nose. He felt himself blush hotly in embarrassment at their proximity.

KID grinned salaciously beneath the shadow of his top hat’s brim, the accessory somehow having managed to remain miraculously in place. “Didn’t realize you felt that way about me, Meitantei,” he purred, draping long arms around his neck now that the magician was not scrabbling for purchase on the slick surface.  “I’m flattered—truly, I am—but… _no_.”

“I—oh, shut _up_ , KID,” he grumbled, averting his gaze as he struggled with the impulse to let go and allow the thief to continue his joyride down the roof in retaliation. “You already know how I feel about Ran.”

“And what a lucky lady she is,” KID replied, his voice abruptly but utterly sincere and somehow wistful at the same time.

He eyed the thief, wondering if he had somehow suffered a concussion during his tumble. “You all right?” he asked, concerned. “ _Really_ all right?”

Kaitou KID snorted softly. “Feathers are perhaps a bit ruffled,” he admitted, “but nothing that a little bit of concealer, ice, and rest cannot fix.” The thief toyed with a lock of hair at the base of his neck as he then cooed with saccharine sweetness, “My hero.”

“Please stop that or I promise I _will_ drop you,” he gritted out, embarrassed beyond belief by KID’s outrageous but ultimately harmless philandering.

“Oh, _relax_ , Meitantei,” the thief flippantly responded. “Can’t you take a little teasing?”

He huffed and muttered under his breath, “Incorrigible flirt.”

KID laughed, the sound bright and carefree. “You know you love me.”

“I wish I didn’t,” he griped, though a reluctant smile curved his lips. “Hold on tight. I need to hit the button to retract us back to the pad.” He waited for the magician to secure his hold on him before letting go of one arm to reach around and press the button at the small of his back. As they were dragged back up the rooftop, periodically grunting each time they hit a strut, he asked, “So… does this count as me catching you?”

“I… suppose so,” KID replied after a thoughtful silence punctuated by several soft, “Oofs.” “Though you know full well that I could have saved myself had I completely fallen off the building.”

A scowl creased his brows. “How was I to know that when you flipped over the railing the way you did? From my point of view, you looked like you might have landed on your head.”

The magician sighed. “Oh ye of so little faith,” he lamented dramatically. “Did you honestly think I wouldn’t have landed on my feet?”

“Well, you’re not a cat,” he grumbled.

 _“Nyaa,”_ KID purred cheekily in reply, and he rolled his eyes in response.

\---

Kudou held him while he reached up to grasp the helipad’s guardrail, even going so far as to give him a boost up so that he could more easily roll himself over the railing. He landed on solid ground and immediately turned to help hoist the detective up. When the both of them were safely on the pad, he murmured thoughtfully, “You really _are_ that curious, aren’t you?”

The detective paused while brushing the dust off himself, shooting a look of, _Hello, detective here. Met me before?_ at him. “How could I not be, since you are the only ‘case’ that I’ve never been able to solve?”

He grinned impishly. “Because I am just _that_ awesome,” he remarked. He was _so_ not tooting his own horn—oh no, not at _all_.

Kudou actually swatted him on the arm in retaliation. “Gods _above_ you are annoying,” he complained. “I’ve no idea how your parents managed to put up with you as a child.”

The smile faded off his face as he answered softly, “Neither of them did for very long, relatively speaking.” There was a slight stiffness in his voice that he could not control, no matter how hard he tried not to keep it steady. It happened every time he mentioned his father. He noticed the way the detective’s gaze sharpened and shook his head in response. “Not here, not now.” From somewhere deep within the tower, there was a muffled roar of outrage, and he grinned. “I suppose that’s my cue to leave. But, as promised: a name and a face.”

He took a deep breath to steady his suddenly buzzing nerves, and then pulled off the top hat and the monocle. He felt unusually bereft of any sort of protection under Kudou’s hungry gaze. An uncertain smile crookedly arched his lips, and he murmured with a bow, “Name’s Kuroba Kaito. Pleased to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Kudou answered with a bow of his own, blue eyes never leaving his naked and exposed face.

Popping the hat and monocle back on with more haste than he had intended—the speed at which he had replaced the items very obviously broadcasting his discomfort, Poker Face or no—he nodded and said as he spun in a flutter of white silk, “Well then, I shou—”

“Oh, no you don’t,” Kudou snapped, snagging the fabric and unintentionally nearly felling him as he tugged. “How do I know you’re not going to just up and disappear on me? That you’re just going to go to ground now that I know who you are?”

He blinked at the uncertainty that the detective had indirectly voiced, noting how Kudou had yet to release his cape. “Why would you think that?”

Kudou scoffed, lowering his clenched hands. “You can make your face look like anyone’s and have the ability to go completely off the radar. I’ve thought about this quite a bit since the night you rescued me, and I would like—” Here, he hesitated as he completely released the white fabric, and curiosity at what the Modern Day Holmes was so embarrassed to admit blossomed in his gut.

“Time’s a-ticking, Meitantei,” he gently reminded, for technically the heist was still ongoing despite the lack of Division Two’s presence at the moment.

The detective scrunched his face up before he suddenly blurted out, “Friends!”

There was a moment of blank incomprehension. “Friends,” he repeated cautiously, quizzically.

Kudou nodded. “I’d like to be friends.”

“But…” he protested weakly, “aren’t we already?”

“How can one be friends with a phantom thief?” the sleuth asked with a hint of bitterness. “How, when you’re able to change your appearance so easily, and despite the fact that I’ve known you for five years I’ve only _just_ learned your name and your face?” His gaze was piercing. “Tell me: how could I possibly be honest friends with someone who doesn’t trust me enough to be their true self around me?”

\---

He stared at the apparently baffled and blindsided phantom thief, watching—assessing—and waiting. The echoing thunder of approaching footsteps within the stairwell alerted them to the arrival of the Task Force, and he closed his eyes with a deep sigh. “Go,” he quietly instructed, suddenly tired now that it was clear that the magician was not willing to part with his true identity. The rejection stung more than he had expected, and deep in his chest, something ached fiercely.

“Bondi.” Cerulean eyes blinked open and glanced up to meet sincere indigo that had not yet disappeared with his reluctant blessing. “Bondi Café at Minami-Azabu,” KID repeated with a hint of urgency in his voice. “I know they close late. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.” And with that, he took several running steps and took off, activating his glider before his feet reached the edge of the pad.

A quick calculation in his head, and he knew he could be there in fifteen minutes or so by car, not counting parking and walking. It was hardly enough time for the thief to make it back to wherever he lived—provided that he did not live within Minato, Chuo, Shibuya, or Chiyoda—change, and return to the same vicinity. He would just have to trust that the thief would hold true to his word and that he would show up sans disguise.

KID was but a white speck in the midst of the gleaming office lights of Minato by the time Inspector Nakamori and his men made it up to the helicopter pad. “Damn!” the mustached man swore. “Missed him!”

“I was late myself,” he said, injecting frustration that he felt to a certain extent into his voice. “Is there any paperwork that I need to fill out tonight, Keibu?”

The inspector shook his head. “Not from you, since you’re a civilian consultant and we did not catch KID tonight. You may go.”

He nodded, thanked the policeman, and excused himself. He walked through the police barricade that held back the phantom thief’s most ardent supporters, ducking his head as he fought his way past cameramen and reporters upon reaching the ground floor’s police barricade. He shouldered his way past questions regarding KID and the heist, escaping into the safety of his modest black Toyota Aqua.

He quickly drove away, his eyes constantly flicking to the clock on the dash as he wove his way between the foot traffic generated by the heist, as well as the usual evening vehicular traffic of Minato. This would be one meeting he would _not_ be late for.

He parked in a garage not far from the coffee shop that the phantom thief had indicated, walking in and settling himself at a small table for two in a corner after ordering a single shot of espresso for himself and a chocolate cappuccino in to go cups for his impending companion. At this hour, there were few patrons within the Australian beach-themed café, and from his vantage point he could see everyone in the place—unless they were visiting the toilet, of course.

Sipping his cup of his poison of choice, he kept his eyes glued to the front door, waiting. A tap on his shoulder—the one closer to the restroom entrances—had him twisting around to find a nearly identical face grinning down at him.

“Miss me?” Kaitou KID—no, Kuroba Kaito—unmasked and dressed in a simple outfit of faded black trousers, a white tee under an unbuttoned green button up, and black Converse sneakers, asked with a wide grin.

Instead of answering the rather silly question, he gestured to the awaiting cup. “Cappuccino,” he said. When Kuroba simply blinked at him, he frowned and sighed somewhat dejectedly, “I guessed wrong, didn’t I?”

“Eh? Oh, no no no no!” Kuroba hastily responded, plopping into the seat and pulling the cup possessively towards him. “It’s actually what I always get when I go to any coffee shop, actually,” he explained before taking a sip of the beverage. “Chocolate,” he murmured, amazed. The thief stared at him with wide eyes. “How did you know?”

He smirked ever so slightly in vindication as he replied, “Just a hunch based on my observations, I suppose.”

\---

He could not help it. He really could not. His brows inadvertently rose in astonishment and more than a hint of curiosity. “How the hell do you deduce _coffee_ _preferences_ from heists?”

Kudou shrugged. “I’m not really all that sure myself,” he admitted “You just… well, as KID, you seemed like a chocolate cappuccino kind of guy because you are meticulous yet artsy, and you didn’t strike me as a black coffee drinker… interpret that as you will. And the fact that you are so damn energetic all the time made me include the chocolate.”

A huff of incredulity escaped him, and he shook his head helplessly. “You honestly scare me sometimes, Meitantei,” he admitted as he took another sip.

“Then my life’s work is complete,” the detective deadpanned, though he grinned in satisfaction when the remark elicited a burst of delighted laughter from the magician. “And please, it's Shinichi. Kudou, if you are more comfortable with that, though I think we’ve been through enough together to have earned the right to address each other by name. Don't you agree, Kuroba-kun?”

It was exceedingly strange to hear his name roll off Kudou Shinichi’s tongue—especially since he had not honestly considered how it would sound despite the fact that he had promised his identity two years ago. It still frightened him, on some level, to know that a _detective_ knew who he was when he was not KID, still possessed a fear that Kudou would turn around and arrest him. It was distinctly in the realm of possibility when he had presented his offer back then, and the fear had only increased now that Kudou truly did know who he was.

The single solace he found with his current situation was that his father’s killers were all in prison. His work as KID was practically done, and all he had to do now was figure out how to destroy Pandora. He had faith in Kudou, though, that even if he _was_ imprisoned, he could count on the detective to complete that task in his stead. The once-shrunken sleuth would know all too well the dangers the promise of immortality posed. Pandora would be safe in Kudou’s hands.

He smirked in reply, masking his mild unease with his usual impeccable aplomb. “But of course! We’re friends, are we not, Kudou?” he replied insolently, purposely leaving off an honorific just to see how the detective would react.

… he _really_ needed to learn how to stop baiting anyone out to do him harm of any sort. It had the potential to be extremely detrimental to his overall wellbeing. But he had always had a penchant for poking the metaphorical sleeping dragon in the eye with a red-hot poker, and this was hardly an exception. Case in point: Nakamori Aoko and her various panty colors and prints.

Mentally shaking himself to halt his descent down _that_ particular mental rabbit hole, he refocused on the detective sitting before him. Kudou was relaxed, judging by his body language, and pleased by his grinning mien. The sleuth was no actor like his mother, so he was decently sure that Kudou’s facial expression was genuine.

“I would hope so,” Kudou huffed, a twinkle of amusement in his blue eyes. “Particularly since I had to be rescued after an unintentional skydiving experience, amongst other things.”

“And you were such a cute little thing, too,” he cooed with so much sugar in his tone that it made his teeth ache.

Kudou rolled his eyes. “Like that ever stopped you,” he retorted. “You still got away every time.”

“Only because you’re so damn difficult to plan for,” he sighed. “You never failed to toss seven wrenches into whatever designs I had.”

“Again, my life’s purpose has been fulfilled.” The detective stood up, grabbing his cup. “Want to walk around for a bit? I still have yet to hear how Kaitou KID the Second came to be.”

He glowered at his doppelgänger. “I never promised anything of the sort,” he argued as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Kudou beamed cheerily down at him, and privately he admitted that the sight was likely one of _the_ scariest things he had ever seen. That list included the _slimy finny things_. He gulped and suppressed a shudder. “Come on,” the detective wheedled, “you said you owed me, didn’t you, Kuroba?”

\---

He knew he had Kuroba when a small moue of discontent flickered across his face, and he inwardly rubbed his hands in glee. The magician scooped up his cup and followed him out of the shop. They wandered about the streets of Minato, eventually meandering into Asriugawanomiya Memorial Park. Along the way, Kuroba hesitantly described the history of the first KID, as well as how he had come to inherit the cape, hat, and monocle. They had both had a good laugh over how their parents had apparently played the same game of cat and mouse that they now played, only two decades prior.

Listening to KID’s history, as well as finally understanding his motivations, only made him realize how lucky he was in comparison—not that he would ever say that aloud for fear of damaging his budding friendship with Kuroba. But he had not lost a parent at a young age—and in such a traumatic fashion, no less—nor had he had to spend the better half of his life chasing after murderers with such a deeply personal motivation. In all honesty, he was rather surprised that Kuroba was as sane as he was.

The two of them climbed onto and sat upon the three-meter-tall jungle gym in the Children’s Corner, enjoying the tranquility of the evening—or rather, _he_ sat peacefully atop the bars while Kuroba slithered and monkeyed his way on, around, under, and through the tangle of metal bars with an easy agility that he secretly envied. They enjoyed a companionable silence for several minutes before he broke the quiet. “Do you _ever_ sit still?” he asked with frank curiosity, staring down between his legs as Kuroba hung, suspended a meter beneath where he sat.

The magician peered upwards in the darkness, his eyes glittering in the ambient light pollution of greater Tokyo. “Not really,” he admitted. “I’ve always been restless—it’s why Oyaji had me learn ninjutsu and magic. Ninjutsu to both burn off energy and develop discipline, and magic to teach me focus, patience, and control.”

He chuckled, the sound amused, yet tired. “No wonder no one could catch you. You’re like a ninja jackrabbit on crack.”

“Seriously?” Kuroba chirped as he eeled himself through the bars, somehow managing to flip himself upright so that he landed, perched like a bird on a branch, next to him, crooning, “You manage to say the sweetest things, Kudou.”

“Don’t I?” he simpered back with a sarcastic bite in his voice, “Since I do love you so.”

Kuroba laughed as he flopped over to lie on his back, his gaze upwards at the nearly starless, too bright night sky. “Of course you do! I’m your little brother, after all.”

“Unfortunately,” he sighed, only to be whacked playfully on the arm by his companion.

“I take it back,” the phantom thief announced flatly. “You’re not sweet at all. You’re just a big meanie.”

He raised an incredulous eyebrow at the magician. “You’re only just now figuring this out?” he asked. “Where have you _been_?”

\---

He stuck his tongue out at Kudou. “Doing everything I could to avoid the Evil Soccer Ball of Doom, that’s what. I’m going to trademark that name just for you, by the way.”

“I’m beyond flattered,” the detective answered dryly.

“You should be,” he huffed. “That thing was worse than anything Nakamori-keibu could ever come up with.”

Kudou snorted. “You’re being overly dramatic.”

The glare he sent the sleuth’s way was hot enough to melt steel. “You kicked a ball at my head hard enough to _dent metal and break concrete_ ,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“And you survived perfectly fine,” was the detective’s mild rejoinder.

“Traumatized, more like,” he declared melodramatically, “I’ve since developed a near phobia for soccer balls in general thanks to you.”

“Cry me a river, build me a bridge, and get over it, you big baby,” Kudou stated flatly, though he tossed the magician a smirk that was easily visible in the light pollution.

He pouted. “Totally _not_ feeling the love here, Kudou.”

The detective hummed disinterestedly. “I must have missed the memo then.”

“Why do I put up with you?” he moaned, sliding between a set of bars to hand upside down by his knees, his ankles anchoring him to another bar.

From his swinging vantage point, he saw Kudou watching him with raised brows and a smirk. “Because you love me,” he stated blandly, though confidently.

He frowned up at him, suspicious despite the common knowledge that said otherwise. “… You’re not hitting on me, are you?”

Kudou shuddered. “Perish the thought.”

“Good,” he sighed. “Otherwise I might have had to…” he trailed off, not really sure _what_ his threat would entail.

The detective waited a beat before prodding, “To what?”

“Uh…” He paused, thinking for a moment before huffing indignantly and snapping, “I don’t know yet, but it’ll be something good!” There was no way he could say that he could sic Aoko on him, simply because Aoko still did not know about his moonlighting. Though the mental image of Aoko chasing after Kudou with a broom was a rather humorous image.

Kudou chuckled. “Well, let me know when you figure it out, okay?”

Bracing himself at the shoulders, stomach, thighs, and shins, he stared at the gravel that underlay the jungle gym as he sighed miserably. “I hate you.”

The sleuth returned his gaze to the sky, tentatively lying back onto the bars. “No you don’t,” he said softly. “If you did, you wouldn’t have saved me that night.” Flipping over to stare at the detective, he remained quiet as Kudou continued, “I never truly thanked you for your help that night, did I?”

“You jailed Oyaji’s murderers,” he replied, his voice equally soft. “How could I have done any less?”

Kudou gingerly rolled over so that he faced downwards, gazing at him from above. “I would have done that for anyone. But as long as it brought you some closure, then that’s all the thanks I need.” He smiled, a soft, kind smile from the heart. “I consider us even, you know, in case that means anything to you. You don’t owe me any debts.”

He sighed once more, though this time the exhalation verbalized the multitude of nameless emotions that he could not. But judging by the gentle grin that Kudou sported, perhaps there was no need for him to verbalize anything. _Stupid, know-it-all detectives,_ he complained with immense fondness, a smile of his own curving his lips as he gazed up at his friend.

\---

Their quiet talk eventually gave way to more lighthearted, playful banter—solemnity had never really been KID’s strong suit—and so that was how he found himself goaded into chasing after a laughing magician in the wee hours of the morning. “You’re cheating!” he hissed, trying his best to be quiet as he stared at Kuroba, who had climbed up into a tree. “How does anyone _cheat_ at playing _tag_?”

Kuroba shrugged. “No one ever said the game had to be played on the ground,” he countered, and he dearly wished that he had a soccer ball to kick at the smug thief.

“Get your ass back down here,” he snapped.

The magician sighed. “You were so much cuter when you were smaller. A tiny little spitfire with the brains and the balls to back it up.”

His cheeks reddened at the phantom thief’s description of his shrunken self, and he theatrically gagged. “Must you romanticize everything?” he complained.

Kuroba slid off the branch he had been perched on, landing on the ground with cat-silent feet. A brief burst of envy once again made an appearance in his chest at Kuroba’s physical capabilities. “Why wouldn’t I?” he asked in return. “Considering how I’ve staged all of my heists…”

“Overblown and melodramatic,” he scoffed, only to yelp as the magician bodily tackled him into the grass-covered earth.

They tumbled and rolled for a little before Kuroba pinned him on his back with the thief frowning down at him. “No imagination at all,” he lamented. He flopped down on him, forcing a grunted, “Oof!” from his lungs. “You detectives need to let loose and learn how to dream again.”

He sucked in a labored breath due to Kuroba’s weight on him. “Get off me, Kuroba.”

The magician relaxed even more in response. “Nah, you’re rather comfortable.”

“The only person I’m going to be willingly comfortable for is Ran,” he retorted. “Now get off,” he reiterated, punctuating the demand with a somewhat forceful shove.

“Or what?” Kuroba challenged, wrapping his arms and legs around him like a cuddly octopus.

“I’ll…” He paused, thinking. “I’ll tickle you.”

The thief’s head snapped back, eying him suspiciously. “You wouldn’t dare!” he murmured, curling even more tightly around his body, and he could feel the magician’s muscles tensing in wary anticipation.

He stared flatly back. “Try me.”

“Meanie,” Kuroba responded, sticking his tongue out in emphasis.

“Says the idiot who would disguise as _me_ while I was there,” he replied with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

The phantom thief huffed. “You were an excellent disguise.”

He scowled. “You flirted with Ran!” he snapped.

“So?” he replied with a shrug. “It’s not like I actually managed to make out with her…”

“True,” he sighed, relenting somewhat. “Otherwise I would have killed you myself.”

“That’s no way for a homicide detective to speak,” Kuroba rebuked with a frown. His limbs, which had begun to relax, tensed once more.

He grinned a devious, wicked grin. “But I know _exactly_ how to hide a body,” he said softly.

Kuroba stared. “That’s… that’s actually really creepy.”

“Good,” he huffed. “Now get off.”

“Fine.” The magician relented, dragging out the word as he rolled off the detective and stood.

Peeling himself off the ground and dusting himself off, he glanced up at the thief. “And by the way, KID…” he began, slapping Kuroba on the shoulder and bolting, “Tag, you’re it!”

Kuroba’s jaw dropped in astonishment. “I—gods damn it, Meitantei!” he howled, tearing after the laughing detective.

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: So this turned out longer than I anticipated. Oh well. I tried to write it in the same style as the prequel, so I hope it feels consistent. I tried. My apologies if the ending was a bit crappy, as I sort of had no idea how to wrap it up after the eighth section. But here’s hoping that it worked out… sort of, and that it lives up to any expectations you might have had. My apologies for not writing as much lately—there’s been a lot going on, and coupled with a short but severe bout of depression, well… you get the idea, I hope. The “M” logo for the Mori Tower resembles the kanji for gate, 門. Hang glider physics doesn’t quite work that way in real life with regards to taking off, but whatever. “Nyaa” is the Japanese version of kitty sounds. Bondi Café is actually a very popular coffee shop in Minato with an Australian beach/surfer theme. I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Completed: 15.06.2017


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